It Could Be Worse

It Could Be Worse

By Dave

Successful Sobriety and Stability Aided by a Supportive Family

I don’t know where I would be if it weren't for family. It has been hard on everyone. Was it drugs, kundalini, spirits, or miswired synapses? If my high school had voted on who was most likely to snap, it probably would have been me. I think I would have developed schizophrenia even without marijuana and a few acid trips. There is a family history. The substances just made it worse.

I was an engineering student with potential who acquired a marijuana habit, transferred and dropped out. I had some strange ideas on the road, came back, lived with friends, family, then was hospitalized, back to work for a year, and again hospitalized. Six months after recovering to the point where I could work again for a year, I had a personal crisis and hospitalization. I went to a recovery house and got clean. I remained substance-free, worked for a year, got hospitalized, got my own place, worked for a year, and then rehospitalized. Right now, I’m working, hoping the kinks in my mind and the system have been worked out.

The mental health system is stretched thin and the turnover rate is very high. Even if they had checked on me, no clinician was ever around long enough to get to know the signs of my individual case. Each time, it began with not eating and sleeping, strange synchronicity and hallucinations. I would ditch my job, write people crazy letters, drive my car somewhere without the gas to get back. Where would I be without my family? Certain people could talk me down. They knew when I was losing it and would get me into the hospital before it would turn into jail.

I've had more visual than audio hallucinations. It's like being in a dream state while I'm awake. I know what channel is on, I know what I put in the DVD player, but that’s not it. There is an endless horror movie inside my head.

Things were quiet until I refused medication in 2008. Two weeks later, the internal dialogue became a quagmire. It's difficult to hear the still, small voice when there’s so much noise inside. At least they go away when I'm concentrating on a task like writing or working, or having a good conversation. The doctors will ask if the medications help. At least by now, I know not to stop taking them. Schizoaffective mania happens even when sober and taking meds.

There have been highlights. I was inspired to buy a guitar and have been playing ever since. I have produced some good songs, poems and sketches. I got baptized several years ago, made some friends, lost some friends, been employee of the month and got some raises and bonuses at several jobs. I smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. I work and do odd jobs to pay for them. I've been sober 4.5 years out of five. I’ve been considering completing my general studies degree.

I've put on a lot of weight and been sleeping 12 hours a day since I was put on medication 10 years ago. Right now, it's not so bad. I got my own place, smokes, a job, my family and a few friends who still care. What more could a guy ask for?

A Crazy Guy Like Me

A Crazy Guy Like Me

By Dave A.

How I Found Stability With Meds and the 12-Steps

I was born in a shack my father built in Northern California in 1976. My father was violent, mentally abusive, a heavy drinker and, as is now apparently a schizophrenic. I dreamt of fighting him off when I was young. I had resentment toward him yet a natural admiration that looked for the good in him. My mother is bi-polar and began drinking after my parents’ divorce. She did, however, quit drinking and introduced me to 12-step help when I was a teen for my heavy drinking and drug abuse.

My schizophrenia started aggravating my psyche when I was about 15, most likely triggered from heavy drug abuse. Along the way, I started dating a sweet girl. We fell in love, yet she left and I was devastated. I began isolating and was tormented by horrible visions. Scenes of violence would flash through my mind. When I returned to counseling, my therapist suggested medication, which I did not feel was a good natural remedy. In fact, I looked down upon medication as if it were a street drug.

Not too long after, I was institutionalized upon my family’s insistence and my concurrence. Obsessed with my previous girlfriend, I continued to grieve over her. Whenever I seemed to stop thinking of her, someone would mention or ask about her, which I interpreted as God indicating her eventual return to me. After several trials and disruptions in medications, the majority of my psychosis involved my imagining this former girlfriend was with me. I knew she was not, however, I felt happier thinking she was somehow with me in spirit. My writing and the music I listen to is much inspired by this woman.

I have not drunk or used illegal drugs since I was 21. I am 38 now and feel I have made a strong effort to do well in this life of illusion. I met Dan Frey (editor of NYC Voices) when I was about 23, and whom I consider a good friend, although we have not been in close contact for years. His efforts to support my musical shows are still appreciated.

Since I was 21, I have done my best work with psychiatric practitioners, having been in hospital psych wards once a year until about eight years ago. The threat of psychosis has alleviated over time and I value my freedom with the assistance of outpatient care. I would, however, do inpatient again if needed, and have considered it on occasions when I struggled the most.

I have schizoaffective type 2, which means I have struggled with depression throughout my life. I continue to enjoy good times as well. The twelve-step program has taught me to find esteem in service, in hopefulness and faith in healing for the sake of others, as well as myself.

I can no longer drink or ingest the sickening amounts of sugar designed by junk food companies. Due to my borderline sugar levels, I cut soda and other sugary drinks out of my diet. I still acquiesce sometimes with chocolate, but not like I used to. I don’t know for certain if I have fallen prey to Zyprexa's tendency to create sugar reactions, or to the junk food industry. Either way, I now regulate my diet more consciously.

I bring a 12-step meeting into the psych ward down in the valley once a month. If I get the apartment I’ve been eyeing, I’ll be just a block away from the psych unit and my plan is to begin weekly meetings. I have a sense of accomplishment having done the same with the hospital back east years ago.

Currently, I live in the mountains of Northern California and have an application pending for a low-income apartment down in the city’s valley. I’m making an effort to enjoy my current life while looking forward to having a mental health clubhouse about a half block away, as well as other fun activities, when I get down there. Maybe I'll meet a crazy lady who would understand a crazy guy like me.